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Tuesday, 19 November 2013

Ever had someone disappoint
you? Yes, I have! Ever had that disappointment morph into a myriad of other emotions? Yes, to that, too! So, who did the disappointing? Someone who I've admired for quite some time because of their strength of character and values. I've thought of them as one of my many
role models. You can say that
I've always had an idea of who they were, and what they stood for; that was
until a year ago. I could say that their
actions came out of left field, but I’d be lying if I did. The signs were
there, but I ignored them because I was too young to truly comprehend them for
what they were. Then, that bitch came into the picture, and comprehension
dawned on me as the shit hit the fan.

Initially, I was shocked;
what, how, who, when, cómo? It eventually dissipated, and I was left with this
empty feeling, which I would later identify as disappointment. Their actions
were not in keeping with the values they stood for. Their change in attitude
and perspective was astounding. It’s like, you thought you knew this person,
but one day he/she decided to take off their mask and show you who he/she
really was. Maybe, he/she adopted a new personality altogether, and secretly
suffers from Dissociative Identity Disorder?

Seeing the change left me
reeling. The disappointment was still there, but unbeknownst to me, other
emotions had begun to fester. I noticed anger, even hatred, when I saw their
face, heard their voice, or someone mentioned their name. I picked up on hurt
when I saw how their actions had affected the relationships they once adored.
Confusion reared its ugly head when I laid on my bed, in the dark, desperately trying to understand it all. I can’t even begin to describe the betrayal and helplessness.

But, amidst all those
negative feelings, I still held on to a glimmer of hope. Overtime, I developed
this blind optimism. My naiveté sprang into action, and I started to look
forward to their visits. I started to believe their impassioned declarations
that they had seen the error of their ways, and their intent to change. I was
asked to be patient, and although I had my doubts, I agreed because I wanted it
so much.

That was a month ago.
Nothing has changed; the bitch, and the “new them” are still very much present.
Yet, they continue with their reassurances of impending change. Sadly, my
patience has begun to wear thin, and I've noticed a trend. The apologies, grand
gestures, and admissions of guilt only seem to come when they want something.
The harsh reality is that nothing has changed. I was being used... emotionally manipulated... nothing more than a pawn in some twisted game of chess. Soon, all the
negative sentiments that I thought I had done away with came rushing back.

And, that’s where I’m at
right now. I ask myself: "What’s the point of hoping if
nothing is going to change? Why put myself through all this? Should I even care?" I'm left feeling apathetic to it all. I wonder how long that's going to last?

Sunday, 17 November 2013

During my yearlong sojourn in Neiva (I've always wanted to write that),
I used to complain about the sweltering heat, a lot. And, like most foreigners
faced with a less than ideal situation, I compared my host country to my
homeland. I swore up and down that Trinidad was never this hot, and that the
breeze usually quelled the heat. Most times, I would end up giving a monologue
about, "The Perks of Living on an Island".

Over the past few weeks, except during those rare occasions of
torrential rainfall, I've come to the conclusion that I treated Neiva unfairly.
I was wrong, and I'm sorry! You see, I've been experiencing a level of heat
(not sexual) that is on par with (does this make my apology moot?), and
sometimes, surpasses (better?) that of Neiva, and lies somewhere between the
temperature on the sun’s surface and the deepest pits of Hell. The intensity of
the sun’s rays coupled with the absence of clouds in the sky has been an
inconvenience, making my existence an uncomfortable one. Before you think me dramatic,
allow me to explain.

I went to school and actually paid attention to my Integrated Science
teacher, so I’m aware of the importance of sweating. Quite frankly, I could
care less about regulating my body temperature when there are rivulets of sweat,
cascading from my hairline down the side of my face; or when I have pit stains,
and feel sweat on my butt after sitting for five minutes. I go through all this
and more whenever I leave my humble abode, which is annoying. I have to wipe my
face at regular intervals. I feel uncomfortable talking to people when I look
like a fried bake. I’m afraid to raise my hands, pass a certain point, to wave
to people; I end up doing that awkward and ridiculous "throw your head
back in greeting" thing. So stupid!

Between the hours of 9 AM and
2 PM, my fan is rendered useless as it recycles the hot air. This doesn't bode
well for me for a number of reasons. Firstly, I’m fascinated by the art of
sleeping, and I enjoy perfecting my skill. It’s quite difficult to do so when
the fan doesn't keep you cool. Have you ever had sweat behind your knees and/or
neck? Trust me (because I'm an authority on sleeping), it can make sleeping
during the day a nightmare.

If the fan keeps recycling the hot air, one would assume that an easy
fix would be to put up the curtains and open the windows, right? Wrong! This
brings me to my second point. I enjoy having my curtains down; it gives the
room a nice cozy feeling, makes me feel like a sexy, hibernating bear, and
keeps Ms. Murray’s wandering eye away after bath-time. I lose all these perks
when I have to put up my curtains and open the windows. And, to make matters
worse, the sun ends up coming through the open window in all its blazing glory
on my bed. Everything I've just mentioned (moves hands emphatically hysterically),
has interrupted my daytime sleeping in ways I can't even begin to enumerate.
The bane of my very existence!

Travelling has become a task in itself. Lately, I've had to either deal
with the pungent odour of perfume/cologne mingled with sweat or had to sit next
to sweaty people, who disregard the considerate notion of “personal space”. To
my chagrin, it doesn't stop there. I've become obsessed with the directionality
of the sun in relation to where I sit, when travelling. For example, I know
that, when leaving Grande before midday, I have to sit on the right-hand side
of the maxi to avoid the sun, and vice-versa. Thus, I get very upset and/or
nervous when I enter a maxi with no seats in my desired position. Sometimes, when
it becomes too much and I have time to kill, which is almost never; I wait for
the next one.

Honourable Mentions: The heat has made my skin overly sensitive, so much
so that I can’t wear certain fabrics. At home, I always want to walk around
naked, but I can’t. I've actually thought of going to the beach to escape the
heat, and I hate the beach.

So, there you have it! It’s been really hot, and I hate it.
Unfortunately, there’s not much I can do, except write a blog post, because I
live here.

Thursday, 14 November 2013

I’m ANNOYED because someone misspelt my name, yet again! I HATE that some people
leave out the “R” in Garvin, or else, add letters to my first name, and come up
with “Garving”. Like, seriously, what’s a “Garving”? And don’t get me started
on those who spell my surname P-A-R-S-O-N! Ugh! Helloooo, there’s supposed to be a big ole “S”
at the end! Unless it’s “Garvs” or “Gobin” or "Garvos" or “Fari”, whenever I
see those other travesties done to my name on Facebook, security logs, or in emails,
I just want to punch someone in their trachea.

Before you think me
ridiculous, maybe I should explain why I feel so strongly, and I suppose, violent about all
this. It’s simple actually; I believe
that names are important for they are part of someone’s identity.

Now, because I feel this way
about names, I tend to try my very best to spell people’s names correctly. This extends to placing the correct title in front of someone's name. So,
I’ll ask a question, do a Google search, and look on Facebook, etc. I do this because I believe that I am respecting this person's identity; you know, who they are, all that they have achieved, their history, etc. Quite frankly, when I see my name misspelt, I feel disrespected. I can't help but think that I'm not worth the two seconds it would take to ask a question, or proofread what you wrote. I mean, I don't expect you to go as far as I do and search on Google, but you could at least pay attention to my email signature, or my name as it appears on my profile and at the top of the message pane on Facebook chat.

I was named, Garvin, after
my grandfather, who died one year before I was born. Tafari is my African name,
given to me by my father. It could mean, either “The Chosen One” or "He Who Inspires Awe", and it was the birth name of Emperor Haile Selassie I of Ethiopia, KING of Kings, LORD of lords, Conquering Lion of Judah, Defender of the Judean Faith, The Light of the World (he was born Tafari Makonnen Woldemikael, FYI). Lastly, there are only a couple of people in Trinidad with the surname
“Parsons”, which makes it one of a kind, to a certain extent. All this has made me VERY PROUD of my name; it’s unique in some
aspects, it has history, it links me to the grandfather I never knew, and it has a
powerful meaning. In short, my name is important, to me.

This brings me back to
my initial point about your name being your identity, in this case, MY
identity. Knowing what my name means and where it comes from has shaped the
person that I am, as much as, or maybe, more than, any experience that I've had.
This feeling has manifested itself in several ways. Aside from becoming
“irrationally” upset when I see my name misspelt, I've come to write my full
name on anything from forms to my Facebook profile. I, also, start by
introducing myself with the words “I am” instead of “My name is”, which says a lot.

Whew! It feels great to have gotten all that off my chest. Writing this post has served to remind me why I get the way that I do. What's more is that I'm going to continue demanding that people get it right in the most polite way possible. For future reference, I AM GARVIN TAFARI PARSONS!